


This one time, at marching band...

by Bang Bang Beef Keef (BangBangBeefKeef)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Boner, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Asthma, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Drummer Lance (Voltron), Dry Humping, Dry Orgasm, Dry Sex, Forced Proximity, Frottage, KLFrottFestFeb, M/M, Rivals to Lovers, Semi-Public Sex, Trapped In A Closet, well not really a closet and not really trapped but it's still that trop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 13:53:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30022764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BangBangBeefKeef/pseuds/Bang%20Bang%20Beef%20Keef
Summary: An innocent game of Sardines in an empty farmhouse in the middle of a snowstorm turns into a sexy situation.TW // Asthma Attacks and spiders
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 125
Collections: Klance: Into the Multiverse, Klasix Master Collection





	This one time, at marching band...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crazyrandomhappenklance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyrandomhappenklance/gifts).



> Originally a twitter thread for crazyrandomhappenklance's KLFrottFestFeb!

It's a story you've heard a thousand times. College marching band's bus breakdowns driving back from a competition in the middle of a storm and the whole team has to take shelter in an empty farmhouse.  
  
"The good news is," says Coach Shiro, addressing the large group gathered in the living room, "I found an emergency contact list on the fridge and was able to track down the owners of the house. They're snowbirds so they're out of state. They say we're welcome to stay the nightand eat any food that's in the pantry or -"

This is interrupted by Lance crunching down on a handful of expired potato chips he'd already scrounged from the pantry.

"Lucky for Lance...," says Shiro, "there's also the freezer in the cellar."

"Yeah, fuck that," says Lance.

"I'll check it out," says Keith.

"Emo boy wants to check out the dead bodies in the cellar," says Lance, hooking a thumb towards Keith.

He leans around Hunk to smirk at Lance. "What? You scared?" chuckles Keith.

"Not a chance, Sign Boy!" Which is Lance's very hilarious nickname for Keith, because he doesn't even play an instrument in the band. He just holds the sign! At the front! Like, why is he the face of the band when he doesn't make music? He wouldn't even be part of the band if his brother wasn't the coach.

"Whatever, Drumline," snorts Keith.

Shiro, clears his throat. "As I was saying, we're fortunate that we have a place to stay tonight. Although, the owners don't recall leaving the door unlocked..." Shiro shoots a suspicious look at the Holt siblings who avert their gazes in opposite directions.

"Why can't we have our parents pick us up?" asks Allura.

"Not all our parents live in this state," says Pidge.

"Neither do mine," says Allura.

"Well, uh, even if we could call for rides," says Shiro, "if the road is too slippery for the bus, it stands to reason -"

"I was talking about my dad's chopper," says Allura.

"I'm going to call an uber," says Romelle. She's already on her phone.

"Our chopper can hold four or five others," says Allura, going on her own phone.

"I want in on that!" says Lance, eagerly.

"All three of you are idiots," says Pidge.

"No service," says Allura, dropping her phone into her lap.

"No bars," says Romelle with a pout.

"Wait, our phones don't work?!" yells someone.

In a mad rush everyone's pulling out their phones to check for service.

"I don't have any bars either," says Lance. His phone refuses to so much as show him his unread email count. This is the first time it’s ever been zero.

"We should go to the roof!" says Matt. "We might get a signal on the roof!"

In a flurry everyone's standing up from couches and the floor.

"Settle down!" bellows Shiro. And because they're a marching band, this has the effect of making them all stand perfectly straight and still. When Shiro sees this, he adds, "And sit down."

They do as they're told.

"We just need to hunker down for the night. Get some sleep. The driver, Coran, thinks he can fix the bus in the morning."

"We can't go to sleep," says Keith. "It's like seven thirty."

"How would we even know?" asks Matt, "Without our phones?"

Pidge holds up their phone to show the time. It's 7:32.

"Fair enough. Let's play a game to pass the time," suggests Shiro.

"Drinking game!" yells Pidge.

There's a roar of agreement throughout the room.

"This is a dry house!" says Shiro, loudly over them. "Which, I, uh, already confirmed for personal reasons..."

"Someone wanted to start drinking early," whispers Lance.

Shiro clears his throat. "Let's play a real game."

"We could play our instruments," suggests Hunk.

The whole room responds with, "Nooooo..."

"Besides what would Keith do?" asks Lance, "hold a sign?"

"And what would Lance do?" asks Keith. "Rush the tempo?"

"I do not rush the tempo!" snaps Lance. "I have an innate sense of rhythm! Innate!"

"We could play hide and seek," suggests Hunk.

"Hunk, we're not babies," chuckles Pidge. "We should play Sardines."

"What's Sardines?" asks Keith.

"Of course you wouldn't know, because you didn't have any friends growing up," says Lance. Everyone cringes. "Yeah, I realized that was too far as I was saying it..."

"Sardines is when one person hides and everyone else has to find them." explains Pidge.

"So like... Hide and Seek?"

"Except just one person hides and everyone else has to... well, seek."

"But when someone finds the hider, they squeeze into their hiding space," says Lance. "Then when the next person finds them, they have to do the same."

"So one by one they squeeze in like a bunch of sardines," says Pidge, "and then the last person to find them is the loser."

"So... reverse hide and seek?" says Keith.

"Well, how would you play it, Keith?" asks Lance, losing patience. "By holding a sign?"

"How would you play it, Lance?" snaps Keith. "By getting your drumstick stuck up your nose one minute before showtime and freaking out until someone yanks it out?"

"That was one time!"

"That was twice and you know it!"

"Ugh. Just get a room already..." Everyone in the room looks to Shiro. "Oh? Did I say that out loud?"

Lance tries to laugh it off. "Keith and I wouldn't get a room. For what?" Then not wanting the answer. "Allura is the person I'd get a room with." He slides on the couch closer to her only to get an annoyed look from Allura. "But only if like, uh, she wanted... You know what? I can get a room by myself."

Everyone is staring at Lance now.

"And do what inside it?" asks Pidge.

"Okay, I'm done," says Shiro, tiptoeing around those sitting on the floor and heading towards the front door. "I'm going to go check on Coran and hope that 'sleeping in the bus' means 'drink my secret stash of booze.' The rest of you, play a game, don't play a game... I don't care. I'm off the clock." Shiro opens the door then stops and says, "Just don't make a mess." He slams the door on his way out.

The whole room is silent for a moment and then Pidge asks, "So who should be the sardine?"

"The what?" says Keith.

"The hider!" says everyone at once.

"Okay," says Keith, shifting. "I'll do it."

"Um no, it should be a girl," says Lance. "Someone I want to cuddle up close to."

He goes to drop an arm around Allura and she just says, "No." Lance freezes and Allura says, "So we all agree Keith will hide?"

Everyone else on the couch stands up, while Lance is stuck with his arm frozen mid-air.Finally he drops his arm and flops back.

"Aw man. I don't want to hide with Keith."

"Like you could find me," says Keith.

"I will find you!" says Lance. "I will be so fast!"

"Not sure you should brag about that," says Romelle.

"You should all go out on the porch," says Keith.

"No, it's cold..."

"So I can properly hide," says Keith.

He has a point, so they all crowd out onto the porch. Lance stays near the door, holding it open a crack from the outside.

"What are you doing?" asks Hunk.

"I don't trust him not to lock us all out here."

"He doesn't want us dead, Lance."

"I don't know that. He's weird like... not one of us."

"Dude, it's a college marching band, not a frat," says Pidge. "Someone needs to hold the fucking sign."

"Why do you dislike him so much?" asks Allura. "It seems unhealthy."

"Yeah, you should check yourself before you wreck yourself," says Romelle.

"What does that even mean?" asks Lance.

Hunk speaks up. "Guys, I think we can go in now."

The house is silent when Lance opens the door. No noise betrays Keith's location. But then there's a rampage of feet and giggles as the rest of the band pushes past him to go search.  
More than half of them pound up the stairs. Others start searching the living room or go to search the other rooms on the main floor.

Fools.

There's only one place a guy like Keith would hide. Lance strolls confidently into the kitchen and pulls open the door to the cellar.

It's dark. No problem. Lance takes out his phone and turns on the flashlight to shine in front of him. It doesn't cut very far through the dark, but it gives him the heads up on the buckling wooden steps.

"Ha not so murdery after all," mutters Lance.

_BAM!_

"AH!"

The door had slammed shut behind him which was odd, but not scary.

It's fine, it's fine, it's fine... and Lance isn't trembling as he slowly continues down. Why don't these old as fuck strairs not have a railing? Gotta be a building code violation...

"Ah fuck!" swears Lance as he misjudges a buckled step and loses balance. He stumbles forward down the last few steps and skids on the dirt floor. He stops himself from falling by wrapping his arms around a body-sized object.

Oh fuck! It's a dead body!

"Ahhhh no! Ah!" shrieks Lance, shoving the thing away from him.

Then when he gets his phone flashlight on it, he realizes it's not a dead body at all, but a dress form. Though in his defence, it looks pretty evil...

"Keith, you better be fucking down here!" yells Lance.

From somewhere in the dark comes a whistle that sounds like the theme to the X-Files.

"Okay, that's either you or a really dorky demon," says Lance, swooping his flashlight around. The cellar is crowded with unidentified clutter and smells aggressively musty.

"You really gonna make me search for you. dude?" Lance spots the freezer, humming a threatening low note. "Nope, not going near that...," he mutters. "Probably filled with body parts..."

"Why are you so convinced this is a murder house?" Keith's voice comes from a direction Lance can't pinpoint.

"Any house with you in it is a murder house, Keith.” Lance moves around the horder-like mess. He sweeps the flashlight into corners, trying to find where Keith is hiding.

"If you're so convinced I'm dangerous, why do you wanna squeeze into the dark with me?"

"Two things," says Lance, passing into a part of the cellar that has wooden framing, as if they were planning to finish the basement, but never got around to putting up the drywall. "First, I don't think you're dangerous in a bad boy sense, but in kill-a-living-thing-just-to-see-if-you-feel-anything way and second, I am only down here to win the game."

"I thought this game had like twenty winners and one loser." Now his voice is sounding closer...

"Well, that loser won't be me!"

_BAM!_

"Ah!" shrieks Lance before he realizes he was the one who made the sound by knocking into an old puppet stage. "Fuck that's creepy..."

"Are you okay?" asks Keith, curious and not mocking.

"Yeah, just... keep talking..." He doesn't want to run into the puppets that belong with that puppet stage. "Marco?"

"What?"

"It's Marco Polo. You know the game Marco Polo? I say Marco and then you say..."

"Marco... Polo?"

"I swear, Keith, did you really never play a single game as a child?"

Keith doesn't respond and suddenly Lance feels bad. What if he actually struck a nerve? It's not fun mocking someone if you can't check their reaction to make sure you're not crossing a line.

"Mar - _achoo!"_ Lance sneezes. He knocks into a beam at the same time and more dust comes raining down on him, setting off a chain reaction of sneezes."Ahchooachooachooah - AHHH!" Lance shrieks as something grabs his arm.

"You are a hazard to your damn self," hisses Keith, tugging Lance into a tight space and causing him to bang his knee.

"Ow, ow, ow," whines Lances as he's dragged along. "Oh hey, I found you!"

"More like I saved you from yourself," whispers Keith. He's close enough that he has to lower his voice from being too loud.

This is when Lance realizes how much of them is touching.

"Back here," says Keith, pulling at Lance to move even deeper into his hidey hole (and likely closer to him still).

"Ummm, I'm good," says Lance, taking a step back.

"The point of the fucking game is we hide, just get back here."

Lance swings his phone light around to see what Keith has found to hide in. Looks like they started to frame out a closet, gave up, then shoved crap all over the cellar instead. This spot is filled with trunks leaving just a sliver of space between the ancient luggage and the stone the cellar is carved into.

Great... a literal rock and a hard place.

"Fine, just turn around," says Lance.

"Why?" asks Keith.

"I need you to face that wall," says Lance, pointing at the stone with the beam of his flashlight.

"Why?"

"Because I need us to face in opposite directions so we're not breathing in each other's mouths."

Keith turns around. "Really?"

"Yeah, germs freak me out."

Lance faces towards the trunks and shuffles in to press back to back with Keith.

"I would've thought it was because you didn't want to be crotch to crotch with me,” mumbles Keith.

Lance gasps and then sneezes, having sucked in a whole bunch of dust into his lungs when he gasped.

"You're allergic to this basement," says Keith, matter-of-factly.

"I'm fa-a-a -ine," says Lance, holding in the sneeze. Damn, now he feels uncomfortably dissatisfied.

"Just turn around and breathe air instead of dust," says Keith.

"I said I'm fa- _achoo!"_ Okay, now he feels better.

"If you turn around, my face will still be pointing away," says Keith, then he adds under this breath..., "as long as this spider web I'm staring at stays empty..."

"Ugh, you win," grumbles Lance, twisting around. "Great. Now I get to breathe in mullet."

"Feel free to leave anytime," says Keith.

"And lose the game? You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

They fall silent.

"You should probably shut off your phone light," says Keith.

"I'm shutting it off," says Lance. There's barely room to maneuver his hands together to do so. Then...it's dark and there's nothing to focus on, but the musty smell of the cellar, slightly sweetened by the hotel products Keith must've washed himself with (of course he didn't bring his own products on the trip) and the frigid air, interrupted by the warm of Keith's back.  
Keith's hair tickles Lance's face. It's surprisingly soft. Maybe that's the hotel products...

"So this is what we do?"

Lance freezes himself mid-sniff of Keith's hair. "Uhhhh?"

"We wait for the others to catch us?" clarifies Keith.

Catch them... doing what?

Because Lance doesn't answer, Keith asks, "And then what happens?"

Lance's complete derail of thoughts gets set back on tracks when he remembers Keith didn't have any fun in his childhood.

"Whoever finds us squeezes in with us until the last person is left."

"Pretty tight already with just the two of us," says Keith, shifting. Keith's entire backside rubs against Lance's entire front side.

Lance clears his throat. "You should've thought of that when you chose the spot."

"I guess..." Silence. "So this is fun somehow?"

"It is when the company is better," says Lance. Which will eventually happen when someone else finds them...

"Dude, what is your problem with me?" asks Keith. He makes an attempt to look back over his shoulder, which slides soft, fruity smelly hair across Lance's chin. "And don't say it's because I hold the sign," says Keith, before Lance can form enough of a thought to answer that.

"Uhhhhh," mumbles Lance, because beyond that, what is his problem with Keith? Finally he gives in and says, "Because you hold the sign and don't play an instrument.

"I play guitar," says Keith.

"Wait, seriously?"

"And I sing, but neither of those are called for in a marching band. Shiro told me he'd teach me how to play the thing that's like a keyboard, but with sticks..."

"The Xylophone?"

"Yeah, but he says I have commitment issues so I have to prove my commitment by holding the sign."

Lance isn't buying it though. "If you can sing, why didn't you join an acapella group?"

"The dorks in the blazers? No thanks.”

"Cha," laughs Lance. "With their lack of a rhythm section and impossible standards for vocal range." He laughs a little too hard to be convincing.

"Lance, did you try out for acapella and get rejected?"

"Maybe... but drumming is way cooler. Plus we march. What do they do? Stand?"

"Like a bunch of lazies in their blazers," chuckles Keith.

“Lazies in blazies,” jokes Lance. “Wait, that makes them sound like stoners.”

"They definitely are. Plus drumming takes arm strength," says Keith.

"Yeah! It does!" Lance agrees, enthusiastically. "And like, so does holding the sign. You have to keep it in the air the whole time we're on the field. Like, that's hard."

"Yeah, I know," says Keith. He shifts, and this makes his whole back half rub against Lance's front. This time it combos with a surprising good mood and makes Lance tingle. He clears his throat in an attempt to push away the awkwardness of that feeling.

"Allergies still bugging you?" asks Keith.

"Yeah," lies Lance. He holds his breath as Keith shifts again. "You should, uh, hold still so we don't get caught."

"We'll hear them come down the stairs first," says Keith.

"They might sneak down," says Lance, kinda wishing he could stop the convo altogether. Getting along Keith is having a weird effect on him.

"I doubt it," says Keith, shifting again. "You were louder than the Tenor section when you came down."

"Why are you moving so much?" demands Lance. There's a lump in his throat now that he's going to blame on allergies.

"I'm just looking out for this fucking spider that left this cobweb here."

"Just forget about it," says Lance.

"I guess I'll forget about climate change and the threat of nuclear war while I'm at it," says Keith, sarcastically.

"Keith... are you afraid of spiders?"

"Pfft no. I just don't want them to eat me."

"Spiders don't eat people."

"Tell that to the camel spider that's jaw can reach up to a third of its body length.”

"That doesn't sound like something you'd find in a farmhouse cellar."

"Did you know all the spiders on Earth could eat all the humans on Earth and still be hungry?" asks Keith.

"No, and that was not a fact I needed to know!"

"Yeah, welcome to the inside of my brain," mutters Keith.

"I never wanted inside you," says Lance, then he realizes how that sounded. His whole body does a blush, blood rushing to all parts of him that are in contact with Keith. ALL. PARTS.

"Lance?"

"Hmm?"

"Your phone in your pocket?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

His phone is in his jacket pocket, but Lance knows Keith isn’t asking about his jacket.

"It's in _a_ pocket." Nailed it.

"Wow. You suck at lying," says Keith with a laugh. "So what happened? Spider talk get you hot?"

Who the fuck just calls out a boner like that instead of politely ignoring how it's pressing into his a - ? Okay, that's fair. Lance should explain.

"This isn't about you," says Lance, feeling irritated.

"I didn't say it -"

"I have just spent three days going between buses, arenas, and hotel rooms and those hotel rooms were shared with other guys and in my bed too, because we had to share!"

"And that got you hot?" asks Keith, cutting in very rudely.

"No!" says Lance, raising his voice much louder than the small space needs. "That is why I couldn't jerk off! Not once! All long weekend! So this is not about you, it's the darkness and my body not being able to tell that your ass is not a female ass because it does... protrude."

"Oh, so my protruding feminine ass did it?" asks Keith, shifting again and, Lance suspects, on purpose.

"You are evil and weird," whines Lance.

Keith sighs. "Dude, if it's that bad, just go take care of it."

"We are in the middle of a game of Sardines!" argues Lance.

"I didn't say you need to 'get a room with yourself,'" says Keith. "Just go find a corner down here and do your business."

"Two things," says Lance. "First off, you make it sound like I have to pee, which I won't be able to do until after this is taken care of and two, I don't wanna go jerk off by the murder freezer or the murder puppets."

"I don't know what murder things you're talking about, but whatever, do it closer. I don't care."

Lance gasps. "You wanna watch? You perve!"

"Lance," says Keith, matter-of-factly, "You are the one with your hard dick rubbing against my ass. The title of perve has already been awarded."

"Well, I don't know how to react to someone who is okay with me getting hard in their presence, okay?!"

"... are you a virgin?"

"No," says Lance, confused. "Just... been kinda dry lately. You know, being in a band isn't the fun sex romp Amercian Pie led me to believe it would be."

"... but it could be," says Keith. "Depending on what happens next..."

The lump in Lance's throat can't be swallowed back now. "What do you.. what do you want to...?"

"Do what comes natural," says Keith, his voice taking on a bit of raspiness that makes Lance certain he knows what natural means. "I don't mind it's...flattering."

That's a green light to enjoy Keith's very warm and squishy ass. All this time Lance hasn't known what to do with his arms, they've just been lying at his sides, awkwardly, but getting this go ahead, he lifts them to press on the stone wall. His back steadies against the stack of steamer trunks.

He doubts himself for a moment, because it's Keith, right? He's a dude, but then Keith shifts, whether on purpose or not, and that drag... oh fuck the feeling of that _drag_ now that Lance is deliberately pressed against him.

It's oh so nice, this friction.

Lance chases it, tipping his hips then drawing back. He's been pent up for days and now he's finally feeling what he wants to feel.

Lance bites down on his bottom lip. He will not moan in Keith's ear. Keith's ear framed by his sweet smelling hair…

Okay, the heavy breathing, he can't help, but he won't make a peep otherwise.

Though speaking of breathing, he can feel Keith's ribs expand, larger than before, pressing into Lance's chest. His breath is rapid too and Lance isn't entirely sure if that racing heart is his own or if he can feel Keith's through their body contact.

Lance lets his thrusts get a tiny bit rougher. Feels that tingle and that heat pooling. He hasn't dry humped anyone since high school and it brings back all those naughty feelings of sneaking around. The excitement of first times...

In a way this is kinda the same. They've snuck down here. No one in the house knows where they are. There's the occasional creak of the floorboards above to remind Lance of how easily they could get caught.

Him and Keith... hiding and grinding... Keith pushing his ass back against him. Not letting clothing stop Lance from fucking him.

"Ahhhfffmmm," whines Lance, cumming hot and sharp and suddenly.

He drops his face against Keith's shoulder, nuzzles his nose against that soft, sweet smelling hair. What a relief to cum and get that itch scratched.

The relief is short lived as the wetness in his boxers draws Lance back to reality... the reality where he’s just dry humped the band's emo sign holder in a musty cellar. Without the desperate horniness driving him, Lance is starting to question his life choices.

"You didn't last long,” whispers Keith.

Wow. Of all the things Keith could say in this moment, he decides to go straight for the throat.

"Well, you, uh, you..." Why can't Lance think of how this is Keith's fault? In fact, he can't think of a single thing Keith has ever done wrong.

"I, what?" asks Keith as he twists around. Even in the tight space, Keith makes the move smooth, leaving Lance feeling like a soggy, sensitive, awkward mess by comparison.

Keith's arms drop on Lance's shoulders. The sudden intimacy of the act has Lance playing back Keith's voice in his head and this time he notices the purr to his cadence. The next thing he notices is the bulge pressing against Lance's leg.

Holy shit...

"You, uh, you are hard right now," says Lance, stating the very obvious.

Keith clicks his tongue then says, "And who's fault is that?"

"Um, the horror movie setting that gets you hot and bothered?"

"Guess again," says Keith, rocking his hips.

So that is what a hard dick feels like pressed against Lance's body. Huh. That's hot.

"Me?" guesses Lance.

Keith chuckles lightly, his hips falling into a lento grind. He answers Lance's question with another question. "Do you wanna kiss me, Drumline?"

Wow. Okay. There's a lot to consider here. Keith is a boy and that's... a problem? Keith's grind goes from lento to largo and nope, Lance enjoys the feeling of dick (apparently.)Meanwhile Keith smells nice, knows scary facts about spiders, has buff arms from holding signs, a really cushy butt, hates acapella as much as Lance, has the softest hair Lance has ever felt, and even in the dark his eyes sparkle... So much to think about.

JK! Lance didn't stop to consider at all, he just dives in to kiss Keith's lips while listing all the things that are hot about him in his head.

Keith whines into his mouth as they kiss. He must be really into how Lance is working him and that in itself is hot too.

As the tempo increases to andante, Lance feels brave enough to touch Keith (with his hands, as his body has been pressed against him for quite some time). He runs his hands down Keith's sides then slides them over his butt. Lance could tell his ass was plush when he used it as a sex toy earlier, but gripping it with his hands is so much better.

"Ah...," whines Keith, pressing harder against Lance's leg.

Footsteps pound directly over their heads, a reminder that they're not alone, though no one has dared to search the basement. The footsteps release a fresh rain of dust from the exposed beams above their heads. Despite Lance's attempt to hold his breath, he's suddenly pulling back and not just sneezing, but coughing.

He twists, trying not to hack all over Keith. When he finally gets a proper intake of air, his lungs rattle, sounding like bubble wrap popping, with each in and out. That's when he becomes aware of Keith gently rubbing his back.

"Are you okay?" asks Keith, concerned. "Do you have an inhaler I can go fetch?"

"No," says Lance, "I do but..." He takes a second to catch his breath again. "...I'm not that bad and I avoid taking that thing because it makes me all jittery."

"More than usual?" asks Keith, that trademark snark making a reappearance.

"Says the guy afraid of spiders," says Lance with a smirk.

"I'm wary of them," says Keith, checking over his shoulder. "I'm not afraid."

"So if I..." Lance plays by dancing his fingers up Keith's back like a spider's legs.

"Ah!" shrieks Keith, rocking his back against the stone and trapping Lance's hands there.

"Ow," cries Lance. He frees his hands, but scraps them against the stone in the process. "Owie, ow." He shakes them out.

"This is not your night," mutters Keith.

"That is not true," says Lance, wrapping his arms around the back of Keith's neck. "I've been lucky once so far tonight. Despite my allergies and your ticklishness."

"My ticklishness can be a good thing... if deployed correctly," purrs Keith, going from 10 to 20/10 in the sexiness department. (He was already a perfect 10.)

"So like... here?" Lance dives down to brush his lips lightly against Keith's neck.

Keith's shoulders shrug like he's trying to escape Lance's lips, but the little humming sound he makes confirms he enjoys the tease.

"Where were we?" mumbles Lance before pressing another kiss to Keith's neck.

Keith slots his leg between Lance's, pressing his hardness against Lance's thigh. They match exactly, Lance’s own dick fully hard again and eager for the friction Keith's body provides.He kisses on Keith's neck. The winces get smaller as his lips are more and more welcome.

Lance sets the pace of their bodies rocking at allegro and runs his hands back down Keith's sides. He hopes, as he slides his hands back to Keith's ass, that Keith doesn't smash them against the stone wall again. Still, it's a risk Lance is willing to take in order to get a handful of that cushy butt each hand.

He pulls Keith tighter against him. Keith responds by wrapping his arms around Lance's shoulders. Everything that's pressed to Keith feels like fire, it's so warm. Lance kisses up

Keith's jaw, nuzzling against soft hair. When he meets his lips once more, Keith greedily sucks his bottom lip into his mouth.

Lance's moans are staccato, drawn with each heavy thrust of Keith's hips.

Somehow this angle is even better. Or maybe it's hotter, thinking of Keith getting off from this too. He wants to make this little emo piece squirm and writhe against him.

"C'mon baby," mumbles Lance, dipping his forehead to press against Keith's. "C'mon baby..."

"Mmmm," moans Keith.

"Yeah baby..." Okay, the baby talk is so working for Lance too.

He feels like his skin is burning. His dick feels like it could rip through the fabric of his slacks just to take on more of Keith. His fingers find the loops in the waistband of Keith's pants so he hooks them through, uses that as leverage to pull Keith hard against him, and moves prestissimo.

"Fuck me," groans Keith.

His fingers claw against the back of Lance's shirt as he shudders in Lance's arms, body rocking against him.

Lance dips his chin to steal more kisses, taking Keith's moans into his mouth.

So much for not wanting him to breathe in his face...

Keith relaxes against Lance, body idle, except for the occasional tremor. He's so adorable and soft, a wave of affection crashes over Lance.

"So good, kitten," mutters Lance. He flushes and breathes deep. "Oh fuck kitten...nnnah."

Lance's pleasure rises to a crescendo.

Keith presses a hand to the back of Lance's head and pulls him into a hard, steamy kiss. Lance rides out his orgasm, rolling his hips against Keith's leg while making out with him all hot heavy.

Naturally, it's time for their motion to rallentando, the hips stilling, and their kisses becoming softer and more affectionate.

This is their outro, the fading of notes. A duet coming to a close as their lips part.

And now... Lance has to figure out what to say.

"This is the best game of Sardines I've ever played." Great... He said something dorky.

"Should we keep passing the time until others find us?" asks Keith. Oh shit, he's still flirty despite Lance being a complete dork.

"If you insist," hums Lance. Then something over Keith's shoulder catches his attention.

"Though I think someone has finally joined us."

"What do you -?"

"Don't look now, but the owner of the cobweb has returned."

Lance thought it would give Keith a little spook and he'd cower in his arms. He didn't expect him to shriek and bowl Lance over in his attempt to run away from the tiniest spider Lance has ever seen.

Lance completely loses his footing as Keith blasts past him. He tries to grab hold of the trunks to regain his balance, but just ends up pathetically scraping at the sides on his way down. He hits the dirt floor, sending up a cloud of grime and dust and triggering another sneezing and coughing fit.

"Lance!" Keith returns for him at least. Takes his hands and pulls him up to standing while Lance coughs and sputters.

Keith must have better night vision than him because he maneuvers them to the staircase without knocking into anything. He sits Lance down on the stairs and helps him calm down so he can clear with lungs a little.

"Do you want that inhaler now?" asks Keith, brushing dirt off of Lance in a way that's oddly maternal.

"I think I'm ready," says Lance, his voice still a bit raw. "Too bad we have to quit the game though," he adds.

Keith's brows pinch together. "How come know one ever came down looking for us and how come it's quiet up there?"

Now Lance is panicked. "What if they got the bus working and all left without us?"

They share a look, then both of them start pounding up the stairs (Lance coughing as he goes). They burst out of the basement, run into the living room and...

Freeze when they see the entire marching band lounging around the living room, looking at their phones.

Pidge glances up at them. "Oh hey guys. We've got bars again."

So that's just it... they could go online again so they all just quit the game without even telling them.

"WHAT THE HELL?" below Lance, his intake of air suddenly fully functional due to rage. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE LOOKING FOR US!"

"Oh right," says Allura, not looking up from her phone. She's got her feet kicked up over the side of the couch and she's twirling her hair around her finger. "Go hide again and we'll actually look this time."

Lance opens his mouth to tell them off more, but Keith presses a finger to his lips. Lance looks at him and Keith widens his eyes, silently communicating. What? Lance hasn’t figured it out yet.

Keith grips Lance's hand in his as he guides him forward through the living room, tiptoeing around all their bandmates too busy updating their stories and fleets to notice them. They make it through the living room, to the set of stairs leading to the second floor.

Oh! Now Lance gets it!

They carefully creep up the stairs, hand in hand, to find privacy somewhere more comfortable.

Hopefully, the others still won't look for them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Find my socials on [linktr.ee](https://linktr.ee/ChillyBang)
> 
> xoxoxBBBK


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